


Only Now

by burnthepasttotheground



Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: Angst, M/M, Melodrama, Post-Rent, Romance, Some Alcohol Use, lots of angsty soap opera-ness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-03 21:57:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4116283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burnthepasttotheground/pseuds/burnthepasttotheground
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What’s he so drunk about?” Collins asked from across their table, nodding toward Mark.</p><p>Roger sighed and glanced down to make sure his boyfriend was still asleep before replying, “He won’t tell me, but I think he’s jealous.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of movie-verse, just because I wanted to use the more supportive Jefferson family, and not the vaguely homophobic Jeffersons from the show. It's not really important, though.  
> This pretty much starts with Mark getting wasted, so alcohol warning, I guess.

“Mark, we _have_ to go. You know we have to go.”

Roger was standing next to the open loft door, trying to coax Mark out of it. They had gotten all clean and dressed up and everything, and _now_ Mark was trying to get out of going? Roger wasn’t having it.

Mark sighed loudly and said, “I know. You’re right,” but he remained planted on the couch.

“Of course I’m right, I don’t leave the house for nothing,” he nodded to the doorway next to him, “So let’s _go_.”

“Fine,” Mark replied and rose from the couch.

“Come on, how bad could it be?” Roger asked cheerfully, as he ushered Mark out the front door.

The filmmaker silently began to descend the stairs.

“I heard the Jeffersons are paying for an open bar,” he tried again.

Mark still didn’t say anything.

“And if it’s half as much fun as the engagement party—” Roger started, but abandoned the thought to rush down the stairs. He caught up with Mark and grabbed his hand, “Jesus, Mark, you’re making me all self-conscious,” he said slyly, trying to get Mark to admit why he was so reluctant to go to this wedding.

Mark looked over at his boyfriend, but didn’t speak.

“I mean, if you’re that torn up about your ex getting married, what does that—”

“Oh, shut up!” Mark finally spoke, grinning and squeezing Roger’s hand in return.

Roger gave him a small smile. His attempt to get Mark to discuss his feelings had failed, but at least he’d gotten him talking again. He decided to cut his losses and try not to press the issue anymore.

“You know, I’ve never been to a lesbian wedding before.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Mark replied.

******

The ceremony had been fairly straightforward and elegant, and Roger guessed Joanne had been in charge of that portion of the wedding. The reception, on the other hand, was quite a party. Many more guests had been invited to the reception than to the ceremony, and the atmosphere was electric and somewhat chaotic. It was obvious that Maureen had been given more freedom to do what she pleased here. They were actually a good couple, Roger mused. They balanced each other out.

Mark nestled his head under Roger’s chin. Technically he was sitting in the chair to Roger’s left, but most of his body was draped over Roger. The guitar player had watched in amusement all night as his boyfriend got progressively more drunk. At one point, Mark had dragged Roger onto the dance floor, where he had spent more time babysitting Mark than he had actually dancing. When a slow song came on, Roger lured Mark back to their seats under the premise of making out with him. Within a moment, the filmmaker had dozed off, landing in the position he was in now.

Roger stroked Mark’s back. He could smell the alcohol on his breath. _Wow_. It was rather unlike Mark to get so drunk; he usually cut himself off before getting entirely wasted, probably because he was always busy looking after his irresponsible friends.

“What’s he so drunk about?” Collins asked from across their table, nodding toward Mark.

Roger sighed and glanced down to make sure his boyfriend was still asleep before replying, “He won’t tell me, but I think he’s jealous.”

Collins scoffed, “Don’t be a dumbass, Roger.”

Roger didn’t reply. He knew Mark, and he knew he was right.

“Look, man, there’s no reason for him to be jealous. I see you together. There’s no reason for him to be jealous of Maureen when he’s got _you_.”

“No,” Roger shook his head, “I know that.” He was hoping he wouldn’t have to clarify himself, but he supposed this conversation was happening now, anyway. “I think he’s jealous that Maureen found someone,” he paused to figure out how to finish the sentence, “that she gets to keep.”

Collins gaped at him. “Oh. Roger,” he gave his friend a compassionate look, and Roger swallowed the lump in his throat. “You know that’s not your fault.”

“Yeah,” Roger replied hoarsely, glancing at the two purposely empty chairs that Maureen and Joanne had placed at their table. He tried not to think about it too much. He didn’t want to wake Mark up with his tears. He and Collins shared a meaningful look across the table, and Mark stirred a little in Roger’s arms.

Collins gave a weak smile. “That boy’s gonna hurt in the morning.”

“Yeah,” he kissed the top of Mark’s head, and looked around for a server. When one passed by, he flagged her down and requested a glass of water.

When she returned a couple minutes later, Roger thanked her and nudged Mark softly. “Marky!” he hissed into his ear, “Wake up!”

Collins rose from his chair and patted Roger on the shoulder, “I’m gonna go congratulate the brides again.”

Roger smiled and nodded at Collins, as Mark began to wake up. He lifted his head and squinted at Roger, who had to keep from laughing at the face Mark was making.

“What?” Mark asked groggily.

“Drink this, or you’re gonna hate yourself in the morning,” Roger replied, holding out the glass of water.

After a second he realized that Mark was going to need some assistance. He set the water down on the table.

“Come on,” he said, helping Mark to a sitting position. “Can you hold this?” he asked.

“Yes,” Mark said, in a tone usually reserved for the word _duh_.

“Okay,” Roger handed him the glass and watched carefully to make sure he didn’t choke. “You wanna go home soon?” It was getting late, and he was sure Maureen and Joanne wouldn’t mind them ducking out a few minutes early, given Mark’s hammered state.

“Fine,” Mark said, sounding defeated.

Roger grinned at his intoxicated boyfriend. Then a thought crossed his mind.

“Can you walk home?”

“Of course,” Mark replied confidently.

“Are you sure?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Alright,” Roger replied doubtfully. He had a feeling it was going to be a very long walk home.

******

Luckily, when Roger had approached the newlyweds to say good night, Collins had insisted on walking back to the loft with him. Mark had proven to be somewhat of a handful, and the walk that had taken them only a half hour earlier that day took them just over an hour.

When they finally got to their building, Roger and Collins had to carry Mark up the stairs. At first, he’d insisted that he climb up on his own, but after he tripped twice in the space of five steps, Roger had intervened.

Eventually, they reached the loft. “You got it from here?” Collins asked Roger, setting Mark down to stand on his own.

“Yeah. Thanks, man,” Roger responded, wrapping his arm around Mark’s shoulders, more as a precaution than a show of affection. Mark’s head fell on Roger’s shoulder.

“Night, boys,” Collins said, and went to his old room, where he was crashing for the week. It was spring break at his new college, so he didn’t have any classes to teach. In fact, Maureen had insisted the wedding be this week specifically for that reason.

Roger turned to his boyfriend. “Alright, Marky, let’s get you to bed.”

Mark made an unintelligible noise.

“Mark!”

“Mmm.”

Roger sighed. “Okay, then.” He bent over to pick Mark up again. “Put your arms around my neck.” Mark obliged, and Roger lifted the filmmaker into his arms. “You’re a pain in the ass. You know that, Cohen?” he murmured as he carried Mark to their bedroom and set Mark down on the bed. “You okay?” he asked, since Mark hadn’t responded to his quip.

“Yes. Night, Roger,” he answered sleepily, not opening his eyes.

Roger rolled his eyes. Mark was still wearing his dress clothes. If he didn’t take them off now, they were very likely to be puke-stained in the morning.

“Not yet, Marky. Sit up,” he sat down on the bed to help him. He managed to strip Mark down to his nice pants and his undershirt. If the pants got barfed on, at least he had saved the jacket, button-up, and shoes.

He set Mark’s clothes on the nightstand a few feet away. Mark was always more careful with his belongings than Roger, so Roger treated them kindly, trying to fold the shirt as best he could. Then he took off his own dress clothes and left them on the floor.

Turning back toward the bed, he checked in with Mark one last time, “You alright?”

“Mmhmm. Night, Roger,” Mark mumbled in response, eyes still closed.

Roger smiled and bent down to kiss Mark’s cheek. “Good night, Mark.”

He left the bedroom and looked around the loft. Spotting what he needed, he walked toward a far corner and picked up the puke bucket. Originally it had just been a bucket, but midway through Roger’s withdrawal, it had officially been dubbed the puke bucket. He carried it back to the bedroom, placed it on the floor next to the bed, and climbed into bed with Mark. The filmmaker grabbed him and moved closer to use Roger’s chest as a pillow. Roger tried not to smell Mark’s horrible breath as he drifted off to sleep.

******

He wasn’t surprised when he was the first one awake in the morning. He turned his head to check on Mark, who had apparently rolled off of him sometime in the night. He was still fast asleep.

Roger checked the clock. It was a few minutes after nine. He’d made plans to go to the cemetery with Collins and Benny at eleven. It was only appropriate, since everyone was in town for the wedding, anyway.

He looked back at Mark. He couldn’t leave him alone in the loft like this. Roger had only seen Mark hungover once in his life, years ago when they were still new friends, and it had not been a pretty sight. That was before they had a designated puke bucket.

So he got up to tell Collins to go on without him. Collins wasn’t in the living area, though, and Roger didn’t want to wake him up, so he rummaged around for a scrap of paper to leave a note on the table.

“ _Can’t make it this morning. Sorry._ _Count Mark out, too. –Roger_ ”

He left the note on the table and went back to his room. After getting dressed, he got back in bed. He tried to stay quiet so Mark could sleep, which left him very much alone with his thoughts. Now that he wasn’t preoccupied with taking care of his boyfriend, at least for another hour or so, he had time to feel the guilt that he’d been able to shrug off the night before. He could no longer ignore that he was the reason for Mark’s extreme behavior last night.

Mark still hadn’t spoken to him about it, but he knew. He couldn’t do anything about it though. What was he going to do? Break up with Mark? Buy a fucking time machine? There was no getting rid of his disease, and there was no way to turn back time to before he and Mark had gotten involved.

Besides, he wouldn’t want to. He _loved_ Mark, and he loved being with Mark this way. It was still kind of new; they had been together for just over three months, but he didn’t think he could go back to only being friends with him, as selfish as it was.

A mess of thoughts kept swirling around in his head, but he kept landing on the same two. One—the best thing he could do for Mark was break up with him, and two—he couldn’t break up with Mark. Eventually, he decided he’d had enough thinking, and he tried to focus on Mark’s steady breathing while he waited for him to wake up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark and Roger continue to dance around a difficult conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fair warning: brief non-graphic description of vomit

As much as he tried, Roger couldn’t quite steer his brain away from the unpleasant thoughts, and for a long while, he lay in bed experiencing an uncomfortable mixture of guilt and dread. Eventually, he felt Mark shifting next to him, and he braced himself for what he knew was about to happen.

_A distraction._ _Good._

As predicted, Mark shot up suddenly, and Roger reached for the bucket.

“Oh, god,” Mark muttered, and Roger shoved the bucket under his face just in time.

“Morning, Marky!” he grinned, watching Mark empty out his stomach. Maybe this would have disgusted him at one time, but he’d seen too many horrifying things since then to be grossed out by a little vomit. “All done?” he asked before pulling the puke bucket away.

The filmmaker nodded his head, and Roger placed it back on the ground. Mark rested his head on Roger’s shoulder and moaned quietly.

“Uugghhh.”                                     

Roger stifled a laugh as he rubbed Mark’s back. “So, how are you feeling?” he asked sweetly, as if he didn’t know the answer.

“Ow.”

“You wanna go the bathroom?”

“Kay,” Mark replied, not lifting his head from Roger’s shoulder.

“Do you need help?” he asked, although, once again, he already knew the answer.

“Kay.”

“Okay, let’s go.” He slowly maneuvered Mark so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed. “Alright, we need to stand up now,” he said gently, and stood to help Mark up. He grabbed him a change of clothes and they started out the door.

Two tiresome minutes later, they reached the bathroom.

“Can you take it from here?” Roger asked. He was willing to help Mark if need be, but he also didn’t want to baby him.

“Yeah. Thanks,” Mark responded, and Roger left him alone to clean up.

He went into the kitchen to set out some water and aspirin. Then he started to rummage around for something Mark could eat. They had some bread, so he started to search for sandwich ingredients. He found a jar of peanut butter and made a sandwich.

Once he had set everything on the table, he went to check on Mark, who was still in the bathroom. He knocked softly on the door, “Mark?”

“Yeah?” Mark replied. It sounded like he had toothpaste in his mouth.

“Everything okay?” Roger heard the water running for a moment, and then Mark opened the door.

“Uh-huh.”

“Hey,” Roger smiled at his now fresh-faced boyfriend. “There’s aspirin out for you on the table.”

“Thanks,” Mark sighed and moved past Roger toward the kitchen.

“I’m gonna clean out the bucket,” Roger called over his shoulder and grabbed the bucket from their bedroom. He took it into the bathroom, rinsed it out, and returned to the kitchen.

Mark was sitting at the table with his head in his hands. Roger noted that he had taken the aspirin and one bite of the sandwich. He looked up as Roger approached.

“Make sure you drink all the water,” Roger told him, and sat on top of the table, facing Mark. They were both quiet for a moment, until Mark spoke.

“You’re surprisingly good at this, you know,” he said, and took a sip of water.

“At what?” Roger asked.

“Taking care of me.”

Roger didn’t know what to say. He was sure Mark had meant it as a compliment, but it definitely didn’t feel like one. What was surprising? Roger knew he had given Mark plenty of occasions to take care of him over the years, but it’s not like Roger was incapable of being a caretaker. Hell, Mark had seen him care for Mimi when she was sick. Why was he so surprised? Why _wouldn’t_ he be good at taking care of his boyfriend?

He sighed and forced a small smile. “No problem, Mark.”

Mark’s expression changed suddenly, like he’d just realized how his words had been taken. Not for the first time, Roger resented how well Mark could read him.

“Oh, Roger, I didn’t mean—It’s just … it’s not what I usually think of.” Mark looked down at his lap.

Roger could guess what Mark was thinking about, even though he _still_ hadn’t spoken to him about it. He decided to let it go. He still felt awful about the position he’d put Mark in, and Mark hadn’t meant to be offensive, after all. Roger was very proud of how logically he was approaching the situation.

“It’s okay, Marky … Make sure you eat, too,” he advised as he got up to move to the couch.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m right here,” Roger replied as he sat down on the couch. “Relax.”

He listened as Mark quickly finished eating and got up to follow him.

“Miss me?” he teased, as Mark sat next to him.

“Well, you got up in the middle of a conversation.” Mark sounded perturbed.

“I did?”

“Well, I thought so.”

“What were we talking about?” Roger challenged. Maybe Mark was finally ready to discuss the elephant in the room.

“Just…”

“Mark, what?” he asked softly, trying to encourage him. He couldn’t help him if he wouldn’t talk to him.

Mark opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure? Mark, you know you can tell me things.” He normally wouldn’t push so hard, but he was sure he knew what was bothering Mark, and he really wanted to make it better.

“Yeah,” Mark replied, adding quickly, “Hey, what time is it?”

“Uh, about eleven thirty,” Roger told him, defeated.

Mark sat up straight. “What? Roger, I thought you guys were going—”

“No, it’s fine, they went without me,” Roger said quickly, trying to stop Mark’s train of thought. The last thing he wanted was Mark to feel guilty.

“No, it’s not fine, Roger. Did you stay home because of me?”

“Mark,” Roger began. There was no way he was going to leave Mark at home alone in his hungover state.

“Roger, you didn’t have to stay—”

“Mark, it’s _okay_. I can go anytime. And,” he paused in an effort to keep his emotions in check. It was always difficult for him to talk about Mimi, no matter how much time passed. “Y’know … I’m sure she would understand.” He hated the pitying look Mark was giving him. “I had a _very_ hungover boyfriend at home,” he smiled bleakly, blinking back tears.

Mark covered Roger’s hand with his own. “Still sorry.”

They locked eyes for a second, just as long as Roger could stand it before looking away. He desperately needed to change the subject.

“How are you feeling?”

Mark sighed, “A little better. Thanks.” He kissed Roger’s cheek and rested his head on his shoulder.

Roger wrapped his arm around Mark. “Good.” He was glad his staying home had helped.

“Kind of sleepy, actually.”

“You can go back to bed, y’know. You got all the puke in the bucket,” Roger remarked.

“No. I’ll stay here,” Mark replied. “Just gonna lay down for a while.” He switched positions so he was curled up on the couch with his head on Roger’s leg. Roger didn’t think it looked any more comfortable than their bed, and he guessed that Mark was just trying to keep him company.

“Okay, Marky, you do that.” Roger said, as the filmmaker quickly fell asleep. He reached for the newspaper on the coffee table, since it appeared he would be stuck on the couch for a while.

He looked down at his drowsy boyfriend. Sometimes Roger forgot just how _clean_ Mark was. Or maybe he forgot just how reckless he himself had been. Whatever it was, he found it remarkable, really—Mark, who had never done a drug in his life, who had gotten outrageously hammered last night on only wine and beer, who was now sleepy from a single dose of aspirin, was _his_ —Roger—the HIV positive, recovering heroin addict’s—boyfriend. Maybe they balanced each other out a little, too.

Still, he knew they could never have what Maureen and Joanne had.

******

A few hours later, after Roger had read the paper, dozed off for a while, woken back up, and resorted to working on the newspaper crossword puzzle without a writing utensil, Collins came home. Roger raised his finger to his lips to indicate Collins should be quiet.

Collins nodded his head and shut the door slowly. He walked over to the couch and took in the image of Mark still sleeping with his head on the other man.

“Cute,” he whispered to Roger and sat down in the chair facing him. “He throw up?” Collins had also been around to witness the disaster that had been hungover Mark.

Roger’s eyes widened as he nodded his head up and down.

His friend stifled a giggle. “Hey, did you talk about that thing?”

Roger shook his head. “He won’t talk. I tried.”

Collins gave a deep sigh, “Good luck, man.” After a pause, he added, “Hey, Benny and I are going out for drinks in a couple hours, you wanna come with?”

Roger looked pointedly at Mark and then back at Collins. “Probably not.”

“No worries,” Collins replied, standing up. “ _Talk_ to him,” he told Roger, as he patted his shoulder kindly and left the room.

******

Three hours later, Mark was _still_ asleep. A few minutes before Collins left, Roger had carefully stood up and replaced his leg with a pillow under Mark’s head.

He was sitting in the chair near the couch now, still working on the crossword puzzle, but with an actual pen. He’d had to turn on a lamp, since the sun was going down, but it didn’t seem to bother Mark at all. Roger wondered if he should wake him up.

He thought about Collins’ advice. _Talk to him._

That was stupid. He had talked to him. Roger had _tried_ to get Mark to open up to him, and it hadn’t worked. He wasn’t just going to keep pestering him about it. He didn’t want to act like … well, like _Mark_.

Roger sighed. Collins was right. He had to talk to him. Mark would have cracked him by now if the situation were reversed.

In an attempt to procrastinate the conversation, he decided to let Mark keep sleeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter: Mark wakes up + actual talking!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> um... I warned that this work was kind of melodramatic, right?  
> otherwise, no warnings I can think of for this chapter, except for Mark's language.   
> I do promise a happy ending.

Mark woke up and looked around. Was it really dark outside? How long had he been asleep?

“Hey, you’re awake,” he heard Roger’s voice come from a few feet away.

He turned his head to see Roger sitting in the chair, holding a pen and paper.

“Hey,” Mark replied hoarsely. He swallowed and tried to clear his throat.

He must have been asleep for a long time. He probably should have had more than one glass of water to drink this morning. Especially because his head still fucking _hurt_. Had he ever been this hungover before?

Roger gave him a small smile. “Hang on, let me get you some water.”

He walked toward the kitchen, and Mark sat up slowly, wincing at the pain in his head.

“You feeling alright?” Roger’s voice came from the kitchen.

“No,” Mark whimpered.

“You want some more aspirin?”

He probably shouldn’t. He’d just slept an entire day away by the looks of it, and he’d barely had anything to eat. “No. Just the water.”

Roger returned and handed him a glass. “Here.”

“Thanks,” he replied and took a sip. “How long was I asleep?”

Roger sat down on the couch next to him. “A long-ass time. It’s after eight.”

“Yikes,” he mumbled.

He thought he should apologize, but he stopped himself. He had more important things to apologize for than sleeping.

What had gotten into him last night? _God_ , he had been so unfair to Roger. Yet here Roger was, sitting next to him, getting him water, asking him how he was doing. The guitarist sometimes came off as an asshole, but Mark knew how sweet he could be when he cared about someone. _God_ , and he had acted so surprised at that earlier. How stupid was he? He should make a documentary about himself. He’d call it _Mark Cohen: The Incredible Romantic Fuck-Up_. He didn’t know why Roger was even still here, at this point, let alone taking care of his hungover ass.

_Oh, fuck it_. He could apologize for more than one thing.

“Sorry for sleeping all day.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Roger replied. He looked so sincere.

Mark finished his water and set the glass on the coffee table. The loft was awfully quiet. “Did Collins come home?”

“Yeah, and then he and Benny went back out. I think they’re gonna wind up bar-hopping.”

“Oh.” Mark was glad he hadn’t been invited to that.

“So it’s just us tonight,” Roger declared, before Mark could add anything else.

“Oh.” Mark grinned as Roger moved closer to him. He still felt shitty, but not shitty enough to turn down his boyfriend’s advances.

Somehow they’d wound up horizontal on the couch, but just as Mark forgot about his headache, Roger pulled away.

“Mark, I’m sorry, I can’t do it. I can’t avoid it anymore,” he said, shaking his head.

“Avoid what?” Mark asked, sitting up to face Roger. The pain rushed back to his head and he raised a hand to his forehead.

“We need to talk.”

Mark didn’t like the way Roger’s voice sounded. Had he done something wrong?

_Oh, wait_.

Okay, so he deserved it. He could stand to be reprimanded for his own dumbfuckery. Not a problem. He braced himself for the verbal ass-kicking he was sure to receive.

“Sure. Okay. What’s up?”

Roger grabbed Mark’s hand and held it between his own. “I was kind of hoping you would tell me.”

Mark was dumbfounded. He had really thought he was going to be chewed out for being such an incredible idiot at the wedding reception. What did Roger want him to talk about? He obviously couldn’t tell him why he’d been so upset. It was stupid. And _selfish_. He couldn’t tell him. He wouldn’t. He’d just have to play dumb.

“What?” he asked.

“Just—please. Mark, c’mon. Something is up. What is it?” Roger sounded exasperated.

Mark wondered what Roger knew. He was being unusually persistent. Maybe he should just talk about it. But what would he say? He couldn’t just say that he was terrified at how likely it was that Roger would die years and years before him and leave him all alone to live out the rest of his miserable existence. That wasn’t fair at all. Selfish. He was so selfish to feel this way. Not only to feel this way, but then to act like such a _dumbass_ over it. But he had to say _something_.

“About last night? I was stupid, that’s all. I’m sorry, it was immature—”

Roger let go of Mark’s hand. “Mark, look, I don’t want to push you to talk about whatever’s bothering you, but I can’t help if you’re not gonna talk to me.”

Mark looked down at his lap. Roger was being so _nice_. He probably owed him some honesty. He pondered the different things he could say. There was no way to tell the truth without hurting Roger. He supposed he just wouldn’t tell the _whole_ truth.

“I guess I was a little jealous,” he said, not looking up.

“Of Maureen and Joanne?”

“Yeah.”

“And how they’re going to be together forever?” Mark nodded his head. Roger was taking this strangely well.

“And how they’re both negative?”

Mark looked up. “What?”

How did he know? And why was he not more upset?

“Oh, come on, Mark. It’s not like it was that hard to figure out,” Roger said evenly.

Why was he so calm? He should be angry.

“It was so stupid, though, Roger. It was selfish and dumb, and I’m sorry I even thought about it, and,” he made eye contact with his boyfriend, “and why aren’t you mad at me?!”

Roger looked away for a second and then met Mark’s gaze again. Mark didn’t say anything, just waited for him to speak. Roger had every right to be angry. In fact, Mark had been hoping he would be. The alternative to angry Roger was broody, sad Roger, and he would much rather deal with angry Roger.

“’Cause you kind of have a point,” Roger finally said.

“ _What?!_ ” Mark nearly shouted, causing his head to hurt even more. “No, I don’t! Don’t be ridiculous, Roger. I was an ass, and I’m sorry, and I won’t do it again. I was _wrong_. Can we just—can we just move on? I’m sorry.”

Roger merely sighed in response.

“Please?”

“Mark,” he began, in that tone that Mark hated. Like Mark was a little Christian kid and Roger was about to tell him Santa wasn’t real.

“What?” he spat back sharply. If Roger wanted to speak to him like a child, then he would respond like one.

“This isn’t fair to you,” Roger replied softly.

“What’s not fair to me?” Mark asked. He knew what Roger was going to say, but he wanted to hear him say it.

“This,” Roger waved his hand between himself and Mark. “Us.”

Mark recognized this Roger. This was broody Roger. This was the Roger who wouldn’t leave the house for months at a time. The Roger who wouldn’t take his AZT unless Mark reminded him. The Roger who didn’t play his guitar for a year. This Roger was stubborn and glum and nearly impossible to reach.

He knew where Roger was going with this, too. How was Mark going to convince him not to end their relationship? His mind was racing, but he tried to sound calm.

“No. Rog, this is good. It’s _great_. I’m happy with us. Really.” He gave a kind smile and took one of Roger’s hands in his, like Roger had done before.

“Yeah, Mark. You’re happy _now_.”

“That’s all that matters,” Mark countered quickly, and it hit him how much he really meant it. If only he’d gained this new insight a day earlier. That would have been helpful.

Roger shook his head. Mark remained quiet, waiting for Roger to say something.

After a moment, Roger took a deep breath, and told him, “I can’t live with myself knowing the pain that I’m going to cause you when—It’s just not fair to you.”

Mark didn’t know what to do. Roger had clearly contemplated this long enough to become entrenched in his current mindset, and Mark didn’t know how to pull him out of it. He rubbed his thumbs in small circles on Roger’s hand for a moment.

He hated himself. Why did he have to go and get so drunk? _Obviously_ that was going to tip Roger off. Mark never got drunk. This all could have been avoided if he hadn’t been so dumb. His rash behavior had made Roger terribly self-conscious about something he shouldn’t even feel bad about.

He had to be the world’s worst boyfriend. Maybe he should just let Roger break up with him. He’d be better off with someone else, anyway.

But he hated Roger, too. Who was he to just break up with him like this? Mark had been stupid, but he had apologized.

And, besides, if Roger really wanted to break up with him, he could at least do it for the right reasons. Mark had thought some really terrible, shitty things, and Roger wasn’t even upset about it. He had expected Roger to be angry. He deserved to be angry. He wasn’t supposed to _agree_ with him. Mark had acted monumentally stupid and for completely selfish reasons. Roger was supposed to be mad at him.

If there were any reason for Roger to dump Mark it was because Mark had been an asshole. Not because _Roger_ felt bad for _Mark_.

So Mark was going to fight for their relationship. At the very least, maybe he would infuriate Roger enough to break up with him out of anger instead of love.

“Roger, it _is_ fair to me. I knew what I was signing up for. It’s not like you tricked me into this. And I told you, I’m _happy_. Roger, I want to be with you.” He said that last part with conviction, trying to win over his roommate.

“You know I love you, right?” Roger asked, apparently unaffected by Mark’s declaration. Mark was taken aback for a second. Sure, he knew that, but Roger wasn’t exactly the type to say it regularly. He loved deeply, and his partners had always seemed to understand that without hearing the words. Mark was no exception. He made strong eye contact with Roger and gave him a nod.

“I love you, too.”

“So you can understand why I never want to do anything to hurt you.”

Mark understood. And Roger had been doing a damn good job, too. He’d even refused to get involved with Mark before Mark assured him that they didn’t have to have sex. Roger never risked Mark’s well-being. Ever.

But if he broke up with him now, it _would_ hurt him. Badly.

“Then why do I feel like you’re about to hurt me?” he asked dryly, pulling his hands away from Roger.

“Mark, it’s better this way. You know it’ll be easier like this.”

_God_ , broody Roger was _dense_. “No! Roger, no! How is us breaking up going to make _anything_ better? What do you think this is even accomplishing?!” Mark’s voice was getting louder again, but he didn’t care; he was furious with his roommate. They weren’t actually breaking up, were they?

“It’ll be less painful in the end. I’m trying to help, Mark. Just— _Christ!_ —just let me, okay? Please!” Mark could hear the frustration in Roger’s voice.

“Roger, no! This is so stupid!” Mark recognized the hysteria in his voice and tried to regain some of his composure. “You realize I could get hit by a bus tomorrow?! I could die at any moment, Roger! We could all die _at any moment!_ ”

“Oh, that’s not the same and you know it, Mark!” Roger raised his voice to match Mark’s volume.

Mark couldn’t figure out a way to get through to him, and he lowered his voice to ask a serious question. “You think if we’re not dating, I’m going to stop caring about you?”

Roger was silent, but his face conveyed his determination. Mark knew he was being dumped, regardless of the answer.

“You’re wrong,” Mark said, swallowing a lump in his throat. Then he stood up, much too quickly for someone as hungover as he was, and stomped off to his room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a brief trashy soap-opera-esque trip into the boys' minds

Roger watched quietly as his now ex-boyfriend stormed off to his bedroom. He sighed deeply. He’d done the right thing. He knew he had. He shouldn’t feel so crappy about it.

Despite his confidence in his decision, he recognized that the conversation could have gone better. It wasn’t like he was unaware of his own hypocrisy. He’d told Mark he would never hurt him while he was in the middle of dumping him. But there was no way to avoid the pain. It was going to hurt now a little bit, or it was going to hurt in the future _a lot_. He’d made the right choice for Mark.

He had expected Mark to be more understanding, though. After all, Mark had had the same thought as him, hadn’t he? Mark was a logical person; he had to have come to the same conclusion.

Roger sat with his face in his hands, trying to dissect the events which had just occurred.

Mark had apologized for his behavior last night, and Roger had pushed him into talking about his feelings. Maybe he had harassed Mark a little bit, but he’d tried the casual approach multiple times with no results. Not his fault.

Then Mark had apologized some more. _Shit_. Mark must have felt really bad for his behavior. That was stupid. He’d put Mark in a bad position. His feelings and behavior were entirely valid, as far as Roger was concerned. There was nothing to apologize for. So Roger had started the break-up speech then. That made sense.

And Mark had protested. Roger hadn’t expected Mark to fight back that much, especially after his behavior the night before. Mark was clearly aware of the situation. Roger had been so sure he would agree with him, however reluctantly, but Mark hadn’t agreed and had actually put up a fight.

It didn’t matter, though. If anything, it made Roger more certain about his decision. The happier Mark was now, the more pain he would be in when Roger eventually left him alone. The more Mark insisted that he was happy, the easier it was for Roger to go through with the break up. And so he had. It made sense.

He took a deep breath and dragged his hands down his face. He could hear Mark sniffling in the other room. What was he supposed to do now? Roger was pretty sure he was the only person who was ever allowed to see Mark cry, which meant he was also the only person who could comfort him when he did. He desperately wanted to console Mark in that moment, but at the same time, he couldn’t do it. If he walked in there and saw how hurt Mark was, he might lose his resolve—he would _probably_ lose his resolve—and he was determined to stand by his decision. It was the right thing to do.

But this put them in the strange position of being exes and roommates, and it put Roger in the awkward position of listening to his boyf—his _roommate—_ crying over their break-up. Maybe he should just go in there. Mark was still his best friend, after all.

He made two false starts at standing up, stopping himself both times. He continued to struggle with the decision for another moment. Ultimately, he decided not to comfort his roommate. If he went in there now, it would send the wrong message, and he wasn’t about to give Mark false hope on top of all the hurt he’d already bestowed upon him tonight.

He got up to go to his room, but the thought of sleeping in his bed without Mark next to him stopped him in his tracks. Roger sighed. What then?

He couldn’t be here anymore. He needed to go out. Without thinking, he dashed into his room, threw on a pair of shoes, grabbed his jacket, and marched out the loft door, not entirely sure where he was heading. He closed the door quietly and hurried down the stairs.

 

******

 

Mark shut the door behind him, careful not to slam it too hard. He was angry, sure, but he didn’t want to make a scene. He’d done that well enough last night.

He let out a frustrated sigh and sat down on his bed. It hadn’t seen much use in the past few months. In fact, Mark couldn’t remember the last time anyone had been under the covers. He’d been sleeping in Roger’s room since they’d gotten together and even most nights _before_ they were a couple. He supposed he should get used to sleeping in his own room again. Surely Roger wouldn’t want Mark falling asleep next to him anymore, if he wasn’t going to let Mark close enough to get hurt. He sighed again and lay down, staring at the ceiling.

Mark was a shrewd observer of human emotion; how had he not seen this coming? How low had Roger’s self-esteem gotten that he didn’t think he deserved to be with Mark? Because that’s just what it was. Roger wanted to be with Mark, he knew that. He wasn’t just being cocky, either; they were good together, and they loved each other, and he _knew_ they both wanted to be with each other. He knew. But Roger didn’t think he deserved happiness now if it meant Mark would be sad sometime in the future? _Bullshit_. Roger deserved his happiness, and Mark didn’t care what the future held.

_There is no future. There is no past._

If Mimi could see Roger now. She would be so disappointed. Or probably just pissed at Mark for letting this backslide happen, he thought bitterly.

The results were in, and he was definitely the world’s worst boyfriend. Well, not anymore. Now he was an ex-boyfriend. But he was still the _worst_.

Tears filled his eyes, and he began to sob quietly. The whole situation sort of made him want to laugh, in a fucked-up kind of way. He’d finally opened himself up to someone, instead of just filming from the sidelines, and that same person had now reduced him to a pathetic sobbing mess. But then again, what did he expect? You can’t get hurt by the people you don’t let in.

So what was Roger’s logic, anyway? There was no way to enter a relationship without a little risk. For _anyone_. You open yourself up to someone and you become vulnerable. Was he just not going to get involved with anyone ever again?

 _Oh, god._ That was broody Roger, alright. Mark could not believe he hadn’t seen this coming. It was _so Roger_.

Mark wiped his face and tried to stop crying. He couldn’t be mad at Roger anymore. This whole thing was entirely his fault. He lay on his back and took a deep breath. After taking a moment to let the guilt wash over him, he stood up and wiped his face again.

He had to talk to Roger. It wouldn’t do any good to feel sorry for himself when Roger had broken up with him over his own self-esteem issues. Mark didn’t even care if they got back together at this point; he just needed to convince him that he was worthy of love.

He left his room and walked over to the couch, expecting to see his roommate there since the lamp was still on. When he didn’t find Roger, he went to check his bedroom. The door was open—no Roger. Where did he go?

“Roger?” he called out to the empty loft.

No answer.

Typically, Mark would be proud of him for leaving the loft on his own, but he found it difficult under the circumstances. He looked around for a note and found nothing. Should he go look for him? Where would he even look? He sighed and flopped onto the couch. He decided to give it a little while before he went looking for him. What if Roger came home and he wasn’t there?

He settled into the couch and tried to plan what he would say when his roommate returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is kind of short. I thought about taking it out, but I just couldn't do it.  
> Also, I said I would update once/week but tbh this whole thing is written already, so I'll probably update sooner.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger won't listen to Mark. Maybe he will listen to another friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: some alcohol use, brief mention of drug use, brief death mention (nothing too harrowing considering this is Rent fic)

Roger reached the end of the staircase and stepped outside. The air was brisk, and he was glad he’d picked up his jacket before leaving. Still, he probably shouldn’t stay outside for very long in this weather. He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and walked down the street.

He was still trying to get the sound of Mark crying out of his head. It wasn’t his fault, Roger tried to rationalize, it was the universe’s. He had to do it. There really was no other choice, given the circumstances. It was the only right thing to do.

Maybe that’s why it hurt so bad. Doing the right thing was supposed to be difficult, right? Roger wasn’t sure he would know. He’d never made a huge effort at it in the past. Historically, his life choices hadn’t exactly been commendable.

Although it wasn’t like he had consciously made a ton of choices on his own. Especially before Mimi, he’d always just kind of let things happen. His bandmates booked a gig, and he showed up on time. Collins wanted to go out partying, and he went with him. The Well Hungarians needed songs, and he wrote them. April wanted to shoot up, and he bought some heroin. After April died, Roger retreated within himself. His bandmates dumped him, Benny moved in with Alison, Collins left for MIT, Maureen was off doing god-knows-what, and April was gone. There was no one left to make his decisions for him.

He realized much later—fairly recently, in fact—that Mark had tried to be that person for him. Everything he’d perceived as nagging was just Mark trying to help him feel better. Trying to make good choices for him, so he didn’t have to.

Roger had thought this one through, though. It was the right thing to do.

He came out of his thoughts for a moment to look around. Where was he going, anyway? Maybe he could find Collins and Benny. If Roger knew anything about his part of town, it would be the local bar scene. He was sure he knew all the places they could be. Good. Something to distract him. He figured out which bar he was closest to and headed that way.

******

At the third place he checked, Roger spotted Benny sitting at the end of the bar. He made his way over, sincerely hoping Collins was nearby.

“Roger! You made it!” Collins was indeed nearby. “Where’s Mark?”

Roger returned the hug Collins had swooped in for and answered, “Uh … at home.” He pulled away and avoided Collins’ gaze. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Benny wave, and he turned away from Collins to greet him. “Hey, Benjamin,” he said dully, waving in return.

“Roger.” Benny nodded his head politely in Roger’s direction. They were on good terms these days, but they were definitely not the best of friends. The guitarist turned back to Collins, whose smile had faded a bit.

“So you talked to him?”

“Uh-huh,” Roger replied shortly.

“Uh-oh,” Collins’ eyes grew wide.

“What do you mean? You’re the one who told me to talk to him,” Roger responded. It came out a bit more accusatory than he had intended.

“And now you’re here. Alone,” his friend said matter-of-factly, apparently un-phased by Roger’s tone.

Roger sighed and took a seat at the bar. There was no point in hiding it; Collins was going to find out sooner or later. “I broke up with him.”

“What?” Collins seemed shocked. He sat down in the empty stool Roger had left between himself and Benny. “Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why?’ What else was I supposed to do? It wasn’t going anywhere. There’s only one other way it would have ended.”

Collins took a sip of his beer. He looked as if Roger’s words had physically hurt him. “I meant for you to have a _conversation_ with him,” he replied. “Did you even ask him how he felt?”

Benny rose and meandered over to a pool table on the other side of the bar. Roger had always been fairly certain that he wasn’t comfortable with Mark and Roger as an item. Like he missed having straight friends or something. Benny never said enough to prove him right, though. Roger wondered why Collins still hung out with him.

“Doesn’t really matter, does it?” Roger shrugged. He stared ahead, not facing his friend.

“Hell, _yes_ , it matters!” Collins exclaimed, grabbing Roger’s shoulder so he was facing him.

Roger raised his eyebrows.

“Why wouldn’t it matter?” Collins challenged, sounding very much like a college professor.

“I told you already. It’s a dead end. We both know it can’t go anywhere.” Roger really thought Collins would have been more understanding.

His friend exhaled loudly. “Roger,” he said gently, “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Roger didn’t know what to say. He definitely was not kidding. He had done the right thing. He knew he had. Hadn’t he? He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

“Don’t you think it’s Mark’s choice if he wants to hop on a dead end ride?” Collins gave a look that struck Roger as somewhat condescending. “Besides,” he continued, “who says it’s a dead end?”

“Collins—”

“Roger, look at me. I know what I’m talking about it,” he said firmly. Then his tone softened, “Your time with Mimi. Would you take any of that back?”

_Oh, god._ Suddenly Roger felt like his whole world had clicked into place. Collins was right.

Roger had stayed with Mimi until the very end; they had never discussed splitting up, even when it was clear she was much sicker than Roger. He never could have left her, especially when she needed someone so badly. And he wouldn’t have expected her to leave him. For what? To spare him some heartache? That would have been ridiculous. And impossible. He still would have hurt, whether they were a couple or not. They loved each other. Why would they have split up?

_Jesus Christ_.

“No,” he conceded, fighting back tears. Collins placed a hand on his shoulder.

Roger sighed shakily and turned toward his friend. He tried not to think about how Collins had gone through the exact same thing. _God_ , he was such an idiot. This is why he didn’t make his own decisions. All he did was screw things up.

“I fucked up, didn’t I?” he asked softly.

Collins smiled, “You can still fix it.”

Roger turned back toward the bar, and put his head in his hands. He took a deep breath and exhaled forcefully. He didn’t want to go home. Mark was at home. In tears. Because of him.

He’d done the wrong thing. He couldn’t believe it. Even after he’d thought about it so much, he’d managed not only to hurt Mark but to hurt himself, as well. _At least he hadn’t wound up in New Mexico this time._

He felt Collins’ hand rubbing his back. “Roger, it’s alright. You just need to talk to him. For real this time.”

Roger lifted his head and turned toward Collins again. “I know,” he said grumpily, “I’m just not looking forward to it.”

“You wanna rehearse?” his friend smirked, “So you know what you’re doing this time?”

In spite of himself, Roger laughed a little.

“Mark’s a good person, Roger. He’ll understand.”

“When I left, he was in his room crying.” He wondered if telling that to Collins was betraying Mark’s trust, but it was already done.

Collins winced but held his ground. “He’ll take you back, man. I guarantee it.”

Not that Roger didn’t appreciate the support, but Collins hadn’t seen just how badly he’d screwed up tonight. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

“He tried to apologize so many times…” he muttered.

“He _cares_ about you, Roger. That boy cares about you more than anyone. Always has,” Collins said confidently, taking a swig of his drink.

Roger couldn’t help but smile at that. It was probably true. Mark had always taken care of him without really asking for much in return. He’d been so incredibly lucky to have a friend like Mark, especially with all his life’s twists and turns. This was by far the easiest relationship Roger had ever been in, too, almost effortless, really. Until tonight.

He sighed. “I have to go talk to him,” he said decisively.

“Damn straight, you do,” Collins replied with a strong nod.

Roger stood up.

“Hey, good luck, man.” Collins rose for another hug.

“Thank you, Thomas,” Roger said, returning the embrace.

“No problem,” Collins said as they pulled apart. “And Roger, hey,” he continued as Roger turned to leave.

“Hmm?” Roger turned back around.

“Just because you’re sick doesn’t mean you can’t have a life. And it doesn’t mean you don’t deserve love.”

Roger stared at Collins for a moment, taking in the image of his friend. They seemed so different on the surface, but their lives were strangely parallel to one another. How did Collins always manage to handle everything so much better than Roger did? He seemed to instinctively _get_ life in a way that Roger never could.

He pulled his friend in for another hug. “Love you, Collins,” Roger told him quietly.

“Love you, too, Roger.”

Roger noticed the wide grin on his friend’s face when he pulled away. He guessed that he was surprised to hear him express his feelings so freely. It made sense. He was pretty shocked himself.

They stood there for a moment before Collins ushered Roger out. “Go! Get your boyfriend back. I’ll stay out for a while, give you two some privacy.”

“Thanks again,” Roger said as he left the bar.

Inspired by his friend, he headed straight back to the loft.

As he climbed the stairs, his nerves began to resurface. Maybe Mark wouldn’t take him back. Maybe he wouldn’t even want to speak to him. And what if Mark was asleep? Was he supposed to wait all night to talk to him? Or wake him up? He didn’t think Mark would be particularly talkative upon being woken from sleep. But he also didn’t want to lose his nerve. If he had to wait until morning, he didn’t know if he would still be able to say what he needed to.

He reached the door to the loft and took a deep breath. After a few seconds, he found the courage to open the door.

“Mark?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter is going to be kind of short, but I also have a little epilogue at the end.


	6. Chapter 6

Mark was awoken by the sound of the loft door sliding open. _Shit_ , had he fallen asleep _again_? What time was it?

“Mark?” He heard his name being called.

“Roger?” he replied sleepily, sitting up and fixing his glasses. “Where have you been? I came out and you weren’t here.”

He heard the door slowly shut and watched as Roger walked over to the couch and sat next to him.

“Sorry. Can I talk to you?” Roger looked at him timidly, like he thought Mark was angry with him. Or maybe like he thought Mark was in a fragile state, what with the being dumped. Mark couldn’t quite get a read on him.

“Yeah, sure. But can I talk to you first?” Mark replied. He would have let Roger go first, but he was kind of hoping that he would solve whatever problem Roger wanted to talk about.

“Uh, fine. What’s up?”

“I just,” Mark began.

_Fuck_. He’d fallen asleep and completely forgotten what he wanted to say. He’d had it all planned out. He took a deep breath, trying to think.

“Roger, do you not think anyone should be allowed to love you?”

Mark cringed internally. _Wow._ That’s the best he could do? This was so not his night. He definitely hadn’t meant to be so blunt. It just kind of came out. He made eye contact with Roger and tried to give him a compassionate look to balance out the candidness of his question. He was careful not to make any physical contact, though. That didn’t seem like something a freshly ex-boyfriend should do.

When Roger didn’t respond right away, he took the opportunity to clarify himself.

“I’m not trying to convince you to be with me or anything. If you think we shouldn’t be together, then … then fine, but I just want you to know that,” he paused to search for an appropriate phrasing and, finding none, continued haphazardly, “that you’re … worth loving. I mean, there’s no reason for you to shut yourself off from people and relationships. You should … you should be happy,” he finished softly.

His point had kind of gotten away from him, but he hoped Roger understood what he meant. His roommate was still quiet. He looked like he was contemplating something, and Mark figured that his point really had been lost in the ridiculous jumble of words that had spilled out of his mouth. He tried to figure out how else to say it. He was sure he had something better planned out before he fell asleep.

Trying to explain himself, he began, “What I meant was—”

“Mark,” Roger interrupted gently.

“What?”

They gazed at each other in silence for a long moment, and Mark could feel the tension in the air. He was about to repeat his question, when suddenly Roger’s lips were on his. Mark instinctively kissed him back, but after a moment he regained his senses and gently pushed Roger away.

“ _What?_ ” he repeated, now more confused than when he first asked the question.

Roger repositioned himself on the couch so he was no longer touching Mark, who waited, somewhat impatiently, for an explanation.

“Um. Sorry … Mark, I’m so sorry. About all of it. You were right.”

Not for this first time that night, Mark was completely dumbfounded.

“I was—what? Right about what?” He was so confused. He seriously doubted that his muddled speech had changed Roger’s outlook that quickly. He couldn’t figure out what had happened.

“Everything you said earlier. I was trying to look out for you, but … I was out of line.”

Mark felt his heartbeat speed up. Did this mean what he thought it meant? And what had brought this on, anyway?

“What?” he breathed softly.

“Um. I went out,” Roger began, gesturing toward the front door.

Mark nodded his head.

“And I talked to Collins,” he continued evenly.

_Oh_ , Mark thought. That made more sense. Collins must have imparted some wisdom onto him. He was good at that. Their friend was much better with his words than Mark was.

Roger continued, “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I was going to ask if you would take me back.”

Mark could hear his own heartbeat. _Of course_. _Of course he would_. This was certainly not how he had expected this conversation to go, but he was more than alright with the present turn of events. In fact, he was so shocked and thrilled that he couldn’t figure out what to say.

He managed to choke out an “okay,” and then they were kissing again.

For a moment, Mark’s mind went blank and he couldn’t think of anything except Roger’s lips on his and his hand in Roger’s hair and Roger’s hand on his back and the space between them getting smaller and the air—was the air getting warmer? Eventually, he came back to his senses. He still needed to make sure Roger understood what he’d been trying to tell him. Sure, Roger had un-broken up with him, but Mark was still aware of how insecure he’d made Roger feel, and he wanted to make sure he fixed it.

“You know … I meant … what … I was saying … before,” he said breathily in between kisses. He didn’t want the moment to end.

Roger pulled away and looked at Mark affectionately. “I know,” he said kindly, taking one of Mark’s hands in his. He meant it. Mark could tell.

“Okay then,” he grinned in relief.

“So,” Roger said, moving closer to Mark and getting comfortable on the couch, “are we … okay?” He appeared hopeful but guarded, like he was bracing for Mark to say no.

Mark pulled his hand away from Roger’s and turned his body so he was facing him properly. He looked him in the eyes.

“Yeah. We’re okay.”

 


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: Cute

Once again, Roger was the first one awake in the morning. He looked down at the scrawny blond filmmaker asleep on his chest and smiled. It occurred to him that they must have swapped positions sometime in the night, since he was sure he had fallen asleep with his head on Mark’s shoulder.

He closed his eyes and sighed contentedly. Yesterday had been such an emotional rollercoaster, he was amazed that this morning was so unremarkable.

Mark must have sensed Roger was awake because he began to squirm a little. Roger felt Mark lift his head, so he opened his eyes to meet his.

“Good morning.”

“Morning,” Mark replied sleepily, shutting his eyes and nestling his head into Roger’s chest.

“Feeling better?” Roger ran his fingers through Mark’s messy hair.

“Yeah,” he replied quietly. He looked up at Roger. “You doing okay?”

“Mmhmm,” Roger replied, nudging Mark onto a pillow and sliding down so that their heads were level with each other.

Their eyes met and they were both still for a few minutes. The silence was comfortable, though, so Mark didn’t try to break it.

“You know,” Roger said finally, reaching out and fiddling with the sleeve of Mark’s t-shirt, “ _we_ could get married.”

Mark raised his eyebrows and waited for some sort of explanation.

“Or at least have a wedding,” Roger frowned and revised his statement, recalling the ridiculous legal technicalities.

Mark snorted. “Is that a proposal?”

Roger thought about it for a second. That wasn’t what he had intended, but … why not? He didn’t know how much time he had left, but he knew he was going to spend that time with Mark, so long as he let him.

“If you want it to be.”

Mark shook his head. He appreciated the gesture, but he felt like Roger was getting a little too ambitious.

“No thanks. I don’t think we need one.”

“Whatever you say,” Roger feigned irritation, but he didn’t really care. A wedding wouldn’t change anything.

“I mean for one thing, a wedding costs money … which we don’t have,” Mark smirked.

“Good point,” Roger conceded.

“Plus you know my parents would want invitations,” he went on.

Roger grinned back at Mark for a moment before his face turned serious. “You sure you can live without the forever thing, though?”

The question was carefully disguised as one about marriage, but they both knew what Roger had meant.

“Of course,” Mark replied sincerely. “No day but today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to leave kudos or comment :)


End file.
